University of Virginia Library



To the LADIES.

Fair! Wise! and Good! on You these Numbers wait:
They hope: they fear:—for You to them are Fate.
While You approve, let snarling Critics blame;
In vain their Spleen:—Your Smiles are more than Fame:
But should You frown, no Joy their Praise can give:
Unblest by You, 'tis Punishment to live.
I am; LADIES, Your most Devoted Servant, Henry Baker.

1

Utendum est Ætate.

Man! thy fruitless Labour spare:
Vain, alas! is all thy Care!
Cruel Death's uplifted Arm
Wealth or Titles cannot charm.
Fleeting Time no Bribe will stay:
Swift the Moments haste away:
Beyond recall the past are gone,
The present still are posting on;
All to come, perhaps, may be,
Never, never known, by Thee.
Since 'tis so, this Instant prove
All the Joys of Life and Love.

2

Be in Champaign thy Sorrows drown'd,
Briskly let it sparkle round:
On the Fair One's snowy Breast,
Lost to Care, be fully blest:
Boldly reap her blooming Charms,
And fill the Circle of her Arms.
For Death will strike, and Thou shalt have
But a dark and silent Grave.

On the Month of May.

An ODE.

I.

Wecome, ever-charming May!
Darling of the rolling Year!
Blest with Phœbus' kindest Ray,
Brightly-mild dost Thou appear;

3

Wanton Zephyrs gayly sporting,
Shed their fruitful Influences,
Flora still thy Favour courting,
Fragrant Odours round dispenses.

II.

Happy Month! in whom appear
The blooming Glories of the Year:
Nature fondly smiling on Thee,
Lavishes her Gifts upon Thee,
All her Treasures,
All her Pleasures,
All that's beautiful and gay,
All her Roses,
All her Posies,
She prepares, to strow thy Way.

III.

Ten thousand Flowers fair and sweet
Spring up, and blow, beneath thy Feet;

4

Ten thousand various Garlands spread
Their blended Lustre round thy Head;
Every Grove in praise of Thee.
Rings with melodious Harmony;
And list'ning Echoes, all around,
Repeat, and propagate the Sound.

IV.

O! how charming is the Scene!
The Sky serene,
The Meadows green,
The murm'ring Streams,
Which gently creep,
Inducing Sleep,
And pleasing Dreams:
Shades
Inviting,
Glades
Delighting,

5

Fruitful Plains,
Where Nymphs and Swains
Free from anxious Cares, possess
Lasting Joy and Happiness.

V.

All Praise to Thee, Eternal May!
Ever youthful, ever gay!
To Thee the Poet tunes his Lyre,
To Thee who gav'st him all his Fire.
Lovely Month! for ever prove
Sacred to the God of Love;
Let still the Fair One learn by Thee,
How sweetly mild she ought to be;
May'st Thou her melting Heart dispose
To ease the pining Lover's Woes;
Make Her with open Arms receive him,
Fold him to her glowing Breast,
With Love's exalted Joys relieve him,
And in blessing him be blest.

6

Lovely Month! for ever prove,
Sacred to the God of Love:
May all thy joyful Moments be
Fill'd with sublime Felicity!

Epithalamium.

I.

Hymen! the Bridal-bed prepare,
Summon all the Loves together;
Virgins! Undress the blushing Fair,
Hoping, fearing, lead her thither.

II.

At length, forbear to rob the Bow'rs,
Enough the Bed is deckt with Flow'rs,
Myrtle, Lillies, Pinks, and Roses,
All the smiling Year discloses;
Cease to trifle, and delay:

7

Now, a kinder Task assuming,
Thither lead Eliza, blooming,
Brighter, sweeter much, than they.

III.

The full-orb'd Moon ascends the Skies,
And leads her glittering Train along:
Here, fairer far! Eliza lies,
With trembling Heart, and downcast Eyes,
A Maid! —a Maid no more to rise!
All around the Virgin Throng
Sweetly sings the Nuptial Song.

IV.
Nuptial Song.

Smiling Venus! Queen of Love!
Urgent Wishes, warm Desires,
Dispense, indulgent, from above,
Sprightly Raptures, lasting Fires.
Greatly bless this happy Pair,
Make them thy peculiar Care,

8

Kindly chuse from all thy Treasures,
And bestow the choicest Pleasures.

V.

Come, you pretty little Loves!
Gentle as your Mother's Doves,
Assist the Raptures of the Night,
And fill them them up with full Delight:
Soft Embraces,
Fond Caresses,
Charms inviting,
Hearts uniting,
Soothing Murmurs, balmy Kisses,
And the dearest Bliss of Blisses,

VI.

Make them still repeat the Blessing,
Fresh, and eager, by possessing,
With ecstatick Pleasure striving,

9

Glowing, sighing,
Panting, dying,
Dying often, oft reviving.

VII.

Crown, you Gods! their Nuptial Joys
With smiling Girls, and curling Boys!
Grant them Health, and length of Days!
Rich, and Happy, let them see
A blooming fair Posterity,
Deckt with Merit, Rank, and Praise!

VIII.

The Bridegroom comes, with hasty Pace,
Love triumphant in his Face:
Much impatient, all on Fire,
Not enduring more delay,
See, he trembles with Desire:
Come, you Virgins! all away.

10

The Declaimer.

I

Woman! thoughtless, giddy Creature,
Laughing, idle, flutt'ring thing:
Most uncertain Work of Nature,
Still, like Fancy, on the Wing.

II

Slave to ev'ry changing Passion,
Loving, hating, in extream:
Fond of ev'ry foolish Fashion,
And, at best, a pleasing Dream.

III

Lovely-Trifle! dear-Illusion!
Conquering-Weakness! wisht-for-Pain!
Man's chief Glory, and Confusion,
Of all Vanity most vain!

11

IV

Thus, deriding Beauty's Power,
Bevil call'd it all a Cheat;
But in less than half an Hour
Kneel'd, and whin'd, at Celia's Feet.

MUSIDORA.

She's beauteous as Venus, and mild as Aurora,
Discreet as Minerva, and youthful as Flora.
The Virtues, her Guards, never slumber nor sleep,
But a strict Watch around her eternally keep.
The Loves are her Lacquies, still running before her,
The Graces her Dressers.—All Creatures adore her.
Rejoyc'd at her Presence fond Nature looks gay:
The Trees bow their Heads on each side of her

12

The Flowers send forth a Profusion of sweet:
The Grass looks more green that is trod by her Feet:
The Birds hover round, as she trips it along,
And improve from her Voice the best Notes of their Song.
Great Phœbus himself is delighted to see
A Power more bright, and all-cheering than He,
And stopping his Steeds in the midst of their Way,
He gazes,—forgetting to drive on the Day.

A Prayer to Love.

Great God of Love! have Pity on your Slave,
Indulgent, hear, the humble Boon I crave:
Extinguish in my Breast this raging Flame,
Or make my charming Fair One feel the same;
On Her and Me alike your Power prove,
And grant Us both Indifference, or Love!

13

CELIA.

When beauteous Celia, silent, shews her Face,
Adorn'd with each celestial blooming Grace,
Ten thousand smiling Cupids fill the Place,
And fetter'd Lovers, pining, round her die:
But Providence regardful of Mankind,
With Pride and Folly overstock'd her Mind,
From which, whene'er she speaks, the Wretches find
Returning Life, and Health, and Liberty.

14

The Modish LOVER.

I

With down-cast Eyes, and folded Arms,
Young Myrtle saunter'd out one Day,
Reflecting on Florinda's Charms,
The Fair, the blooming, and the gay;
Deeply he sigh'd, his Bosom all a-flame,
And on the Dust he flourish'd out her Name.

II

Next Morn, abroad he walk'd again,
Much alter'd since the Day before:
A good Night's Rest had cur'd his Pain,
Nor was Florinda thought of more.
But giddy Chance the fickle Youth had brought
Close by that Spot where he her Name had wrote.

15

III

The Place recalls to mind his Flame,
When all in Love he wander'd there:
'Twas here, He cries, I left the Name
Of Yesterday's commanding Fair.
Pensive a-while he stood, then look'd to find
What beauteous Image had possess'd his Mind.

IV

But vain, alas! his Searches prove,
The Rain had fall'n, the Wind had blown,
And sympathizing with his Love,
Away was every Letter flown:
Nor could his faithless Memory declare
Whose Name he Yesterday had flourish'd there.

16

A Case of Conscience. A Tale.

'Twas said, by those of old, Beware,
Consider well before you swear.
The Counsel's good without dispute,
And ev'ry prudent Man will do't.
But, if you've sworn (be added now)
Take heed how you perform your Vow.
How, Sir! a Casuist replies,
(And wildly stares with both his Eyes)
Pray have a care, lest what you say
Takes all the Force of Oaths away.
Mistake me not, good Sir; what I
From that Precaution would imply,
Is this;—an Oath perform'd, may be
Ruin, perhaps, or Injury,

17

To One, or more:—then I aver,
The Breach of such an Oath is far
Less sinful than it was to swear.
What's this to me? the Reader cries:
Poor Stuff! Will Poets ne'er be wise!
But scribble, without Wit, dull Rhyme,
Meerly to fool away the Time:
How comes this Dreamer else to fall
On Matters casuistical?
Stay, stay, my angry Friend, forbear,
Nor thus condemn before you hear.
Poets, delighted with the Chimes
Of flowing Verse, and easy Rhimes,
Mistaken, dance enchanted Rounds,
Forsaking Sense for empty Sounds:
This is acknowledg'd, to their Shame,
But are not Readers too to blame?
To blame! for what?—Your self have shown,
By judging ere the Case is known.

18

The Case! what Case? Pray read the Story.
Where is it? Why it lies before ye.

The STORY.

Just nine Months after Joan and John
From two were conjur'd into One,
Their Friends and Neighbours round about
Are summon'd to the Crying-out.
The Gossips come: and honest Joan
Receives them all with many a Groan.
John taps the Ale, and cuts the Cheese:
Come eat, and drink, whate'er you please;
Kind Neighbours all, I'm glad to see ye,
Here's the good Woman's Health unto ye.
Quick moves the Bowl: their Clappers run,
Of what was, and what was not done:
All speak at once: of various Things;
With Mirth and Noise the Chamber rings.
This, tells, what happen'd at her Marriage,
And That, the Cause of her Miscarriage:

19

One proves the whole mysterious Art
Of managing a Husband's Heart,
And how a prudent Wife with ease
May make him do—whate'er she please.
Another, plain beyond all doubt,
Why she was ne'er with Child makes out;
And with much Reason does aver,
The Fault could no ways be in Her.
What Matches are in hand they shew,
And whisper round who lies with who.
Some Secret ev'ry one pretends,
To scandalize her absent Friends,
And when she's out of breath with Railing,
Cries out,—But who's without a Failing!
Joan lies attentive to their Chat,
Of Cocks and Bulls, and This and That,
In hopes to hear some piece of News
Of Service for her private Use,

20

In case her John should ever dare
Attempt the Management of Her:
Tho' his Obedience to her Will
Had been with due Submission still;
'Tis best, however, to provide
For all may possibly betide.
But now, her Pains with greater Force
Come on: and Joan grows worse and worse.
Her Hands she wrings with piteous Moan,
And sighs, and doubles ev'ry Groan.
The Good-Wives hearing such a clutter
Forsake their Cups, and haste about Her.
All are employ'd:—This sets the Cradle;
That, stirs the Cawdle with a Ladle;
One, airs the Clouts, and makes 'em ready;
Another, waits to take the Baby.
Some, bid her be of hearty Cheer,
For her Delivery is near;

21

While Others, pity her Condition,
And fain would send for a Physician.
But, notwithstanding all their Care,
Joan screams, and groans, and tears her Hair.
Oh! I can never bear this Pain!
And then she screams, and groans again.
John all this time stood near the Bed,
And like a Poppy hung his Head:
He knew not what to do, or say,
And often wish'd himself away.
Joan sees him:— John! ah John! she cries,
(And thrusts her Fingers in her Eyes)
Indeed, you are a naughty Man
To put your Wife to all this Pain!
But you shall never do't again!
And then she sigh'd most grievously,
Good by't'ye, John, for I shall die!
Poor John, a fond good-natur'd Fellow,
At this began to sob and bellow,

22

Protesting he would give his Life
And all he had to save his Wife.
Joan was, in truth, exceeding ill,
But not without her Cunning still;
This was the Time, she thought, to prove
The measure of her Husband's Love.
Come hither, John, she weeping cries,
Kiss your poor Wife before she dies!
John kiss'd her:—Now kneel down, and swear,
If Heav'n my Life should chance to spare,
That you will ne'er again require
I should submit to your Desire,
Which I, you know, have always done,
Your Will preferring to my own.
This if I live.—But if I die—
You'll ne'er get such a Wife as I.
John swore:—And now that Curse on Eve,
Which dooms her Daughters all to grieve,

23

Forc'd Joan to give so loud a Squeal,
You might have heard it half a Mile.
When streight, the Midwife full of Joy
Produc'd to John a swinging Boy.
He quite transported, kiss'd the Child
To Death almost; Joan wept, and smil'd;
The laughing Gossips round it come,
And Mirth and Pleasure fill the Room.
Now safe, at Ease, and laid in Bed,
Joan ponders all her Neighbours said;
Recovers Strength, is pert and gay:
And eats her Chicken every Day.
The Cares of Life are never done!
John's now baptizing of his Son:
And struts to Church before the Folk,
As proud as any Turky-cock.
The Table's plentifully stor'd,
And chearful Healths go round the Board.

24

The Guests how pleas'd?—I cannot say;
They eat, and drank, and went their way.
A Month is past, that honest Joan
Has been constrain'd to lie alone:
A Month! a tedious time indeed!
(But foolish Custom so decreed.)
Thank Heav'n 'tis past! The Sheets are air'd,
The Pillows laid, the Bed prepar'd:
They sup: — Joan yawns: — The Clock strikes eight
Come, John, I dare not sit up late:
Upon his Breast she drops her Head:
Go, pr'ythee, Susan, warm the Bed.
Joan's first in Bed: John soon undrest:
A Kiss:—Good-night:—and turns to rest.
Such Usage Joan had not expected,
She was not wont to be neglected:
Whate'er had been his other Cares,
John still had minded her Affairs.

25

What can this mean? She fears to know:
He ne'er before had serv'd her so.
Restless she tosses, deeply sighs;
The Tears fall trickling from her Eyes:
At length she speaks, My John! my Life!
Why turn'st thou from thy loving Wife?
Come lay thy Head upon this Breast,
And let me lull my Dear to rest.
Ah Joan! says He, your former Pain
Forbids us—to lie close again:
For your dear sake I will refrain.
But let this hard Forbearance prove
The Greatness of your Husband's Love.
No, John! quoth she, your faithful Joan
In Love shall never be out-done,
But always is prepar'd to shew
How She despises Death for You.
With this she rush'd into his Arms,
And almost smother'd Him with Charms;

26

Glowing, with wanton Ardour, press'd
Her panting Bosom to his Breast,
My Dear! she cries, do what you will,
My Duty is Obedience still.
John pauses:—what's the matter now!
I'd do't, says he, but for my Vow,
Strong beats her Pulse, quick roll her Eyes;
You'd do't, but for your Vow! she cries:
(Breathless, transported, round his Waste
With both her Arms she locks him fast)
Indeed, my Love! 'tis all a Joke;
Rash Vows are made but to be broke.

27

SONG.

I

How worthless is the Glory
Of being fam'd in Story,
For mighty Battles won!
The World within his Pow'r,
Could not prolong one Hour
The Life of Philip's Son.

II

Insipid is the Pleasure
Of hoarding Gold and Treasure,
Which can't our Pains repay:
Not India's Mines can buy Us
Content, with Peace supply Us,
Or banish Cares away.

28

III

But happy past expressing,
Commanding every Blessing
A Mortal can attain,
Is He that loves sincerely
Some gentle Fair One dearly,
And is belov'd again.

IV

Whom blooming Beauty blesses,
A boundless Wealth possesses,
With Joy and Glory crown'd:
There's no such thing as Pleasure,
There's no such thing as Treasure,
But what in Love is found.

29

On Miranda 's Birth-day. An ODE.

I.

Thy Voice, O Muse! to sounding Numbers raise,
Strike, boldly strike the tuneful String,
And make the Hills and Vallies ring:
Again the fair Miranda claims thy Lays:
Her Natal Day must ever be
Devoutly solemniz'd by Thee,
With gladsom Joy, and charmful Harmony.

II.

Be husht, you Winds! let only Zephyrs blow;
You Seas, be calm; you Rivers! smoothly flow;

30

Gently, you Brooks! in Silence creep along;
Let noisy Echoe still her babling Tongue;
Nor Bird, nor Beast, disturb the Musick of my Song:
Let Discontent its Murmur cease,
And turbulent Contention be at peace.
Great Jove! propitious, from Olympus smile!
And Thou, bright Phœbus! stop thy Course a while!

III.

To Thee, Great Jove! eternal King!
To Thee let every Creature bow,
To Thee who giv'st them every Thing,
Let All with thankful Voices sing,
In Heav'n above, on Earth below.
Let other Beings bless thy Name,
For other Gifts bestow'd on them,
While for Miranda we extol the same,
And low, before thy Throne, prefer
Our Praises and our Vows for her.

31

IV.

How lovely hast thou form'd the wond'rous Maid!
How bright! how sweet! how exquisitely fair!
Beyond Description, and above Compare!
Her Smiles give Pleasure round. The blooming Spring
With all the Pride of Flora's Stores array'd,
So blesses and rejoyces ev'ry Thing.
When she among the Virgin Train appears,
No Beauty is observ'd but hers;
With such superior Grace the Crimson Rose
Amidst a Bank of Daisies grows:
So shines the Silver Moon amongst the Stars.

V.

No more, you Princes of the Earth! no more
Boast your wide Sway, or your despotick Pow'r!
You rule not half so absolute as She,
Whose Eyes command the Hearts of all they see
Ev'n you your selves (so happily she reigns)
Would gladly give your Crowns to wear her Chains.

32

VI.

Miranda! heav'nly Maid! on Thee
We gaze with Wonder and with Ecstasie:
Less joys the Husband-man, when wide around
He views the cultivated Plain
Waving its golden Loads of Grain,
And all the Hills with juicy Clusters crown'd.
In Thee alone compriz'd, we meet
Whatever Fancy can imagine Fair,
In Shape, in Feature, or in Air,
Awful as Juno, but as Venus sweet.
More blest whome'er the Gods ordain
To reap the Harvest of thy Charms,
Than had They destin'd Him to reign,
And conquer Kingdoms by his Arms.

VII.

O Thou Supreme! whose Will is Fate,
Long may She live the Joy of all Mankind!

33

Ah! make Her happy!—let her not be great!
Nor wear the smiling Mask of State,
While Discontent sits brooding in the Mind!
Far off, where freezing Winter reigns,
And the loud North for ever blows,
Bound fast in adamantine Chains,
On some bleak Rock white with eternal Snows,
Let raw-ey'd Sorrow, sleepless Care,
Morose Ill-nature, mad Debate,
Repining Envy, trembling Fear,
Suspicious Jealousy, revengeful Hate,
Ungovernable Rage, complaining Pain,
Helpless Distress, and wild Despair, remain,
With all the wretched Train of human Woes.

VIII.

Old Time! from this auspicious Day
Put thy threat'ning Scythe away,
And fill with golden Sand thy Glass;

34

Let the Hours
Crown'd with Flow'rs
Smile upon Her as they pass.
Let the Minutes dance along,
Deckt in all their best Array,
Full of Love, and full of Play,
Ever charming, ever young:
Each on its Brows a rosy Garland wear,
Unknown to pining Grief, and Strangers all to Care.
Let Health delightsom as the Morn,
Plenty with her Wine and Corn,
Blest Content, and blooming Joy,
And Cupid all-commanding Boy,
With Mirth and Pleasure Hand in Hand,
Lead the wanton laughing Band:
Peace sweetly tune her silver Strings,
And Happiness o'er all expand her downy Wings.

35

A SOLILOQUY.

O! quantum est in Rebus inane!

I

My God! whence comes it, that the human Soul,
Unsatisfy'd with all Things here below,
From Wish to Wish must discontented roll,
Nor Joy sincere, nor lasting Pleasure know;
But tho' obtaining all it sought before,
It sighs, and finds there's something wanting more?

II

Not all the Wealth and Titles of the Great
Can to the Mind enduring Comfort bring,
Not all the gaudy Pageantry of State,
Not all the envy'd Grandeur of a King:

36

While Crowds contend, his Orders to obey,
Himself's not less dissatisfy'd than They.

III

The Lover panting o'er the Fair One's Charms,
Possessing all his eager Hopes desir'd,
Finds not that Heav'n he fancy'd in her Arms,
But hangs his Head, with fond Embraces tir'd;
His Passion fled, extinguish't all his Fires,
To some fresh Joy his restless Thought aspires.

IV

Not long, delightful, o'er the social Bowl,
Can Musick charm, or Laughter make Him glad:
Mirth soon becomes a Burthen to the Soul;
Ev'n while He feasts the Heart of Man grows sad,
Drooping, uneasy, tho' He knows not why:
Sorrow succeeds, and all his Joy's a Sigh.

V

Like Dreams our long-expected Pleasures pass,
Existing only in the Sleeper's Brain,

37

Or like the airy Semblance in a Glass,
Or like some Shadow fleeting o'er the Plain;
So much unable to content the Mind,
So vain are all those empty Joys we find!

VI

O Thou! all-wise! all-great! from whom we see
On all thy Creatures endless Bounty flow,
Is Man alone debar'd Felicity?
And must He, only, Care and Sorrow know?
While happy Brutes their Faculties employ
On what they wish, and all they wish enjoy.

VII

O, no: more happy Man! thy God All-just
As well as Great, All-merciful as Wise,
Thy Body, for the Earth compos'd, of Dust,
But form'd thy Soul immortal, for the Skies:
Its Scorn of all Enjoyments here may show
He not design'd it to abide below,

38

VIII

Here, Brutes their groveling Appetites solace,
Their All, their utmost Happiness enjoy:
But God for Man reserves a better Place,
And Joys divine, which never fade, nor cloy,
Eternal, pure, ecstatick Bliss, design'd
To fill the Wish of his immortal Mind.

IX

O Soul! thou Emanation from on high!
Thou Ray divine! that only passest through
This dirty Road, to thy own native Sky,
How poor and base to thy exalted View
Must all its tinsel'd trifling Joys appear!
No wonder Thou canst not be happy here.

X

As longs the weary Traveller for Rest,
Faint with the Heat and Labour of the Day;
As pines the Infant for its Mother's Breast,
And nothing else its Cravings can allay:

39

As the touch'd Needle trembles for the Pole,
So Heav'n alone can satisfy the Soul.

EPITAPH.

Of all my Cares, and all my Pains,
If ought commendable remains,
Be that my Monument: —if not,
Let Me for ever be forgot.

An HYMN.

I

To God supreme, let every Thing
Chant forth harmonious Songs of Praise:
At once let Earth and Heav'n sing,
How great his Pow'r, how just his Ways.

40

II

Exalt the Voice, to Him alone,
To Him from whom all Blessings flow:
Each Soul, before his awful Throne,
Bend down, with Adoration, low.

III

O holy! holy! holy Lord!
Above, Seraphick Beings cry:
O holy! holy! holy Lord!
Let all Mankind, below, reply.

IV

Soon as thy beauteous Work, the Sun,
His Race begins, with Glory bright,
Thy name we'll praise, Eternal One!
Late, as the Stars adorn the Night.

V

Thee, first, Thee, last, with Heart and Voice,
The swelling Pipe, the sounding String,

41

Thankful we'll worship: and rejoice
Before our Maker and our King.

The Duty of a POET.

To Follow Nature wheresoe'er she leads,
Through Courts or Camps, o'er Hills or flow'ry Meads,
To picture all things as they really are,
Vice dark and loathsom, Virtue bright and fair,
Becomes the Poet: —Him the Gods have giv'n
A Soul divine, ally'd to them and Heav'n.
Great is his Pow'r:—to keep the Rolls of Fame,
To give an honour'd, or an hated Name,
Immortal Glory, or eternal Shame.
O! may He well discharge this sacred Trust!
Wise to distinguish, obstinately just:

42

May He crown Virtue wheresoe'er it dwells,
Despis'd, esteem'd, in Palaces, or Cells;
On Vice triumphant may his Rage be shown,
And make it tremble tho' it mounts a Throne:
May Hopes nor Fears his gen'rous Soul pervert
Born Judge o'er all Mankind—
Unmov'd may He his native Rights assert.
Passion nor Prejudice his Steps misguide,
Nor Greatness tempt him from the juster Side:
For injur'd Innocence may He be bold,
Nor meanly stoop to barter Truth for Gold.
May He stand firmly in his Country's Cause,
A Bulwark for her Liberties and Laws;
The Traytor damn to everlasting Shame,
But crown the Patriot with eternal Fame:
Him may He raise to such a glorious Height,
That all Mankind transported at the sight,
Virtue's celestial Beauties may admire,
And each Soul glow with emulating Fire.

43

CLARINDA.

Grateful, sincere, good-natur'd, mild, humane,
Wise, and yet humble: witty, but not vain:
Above her Sex divine Clarinda soars,
Faultless herself, she Others Faults deplores:
Their Affectation treats with just Disdain,
And scorns the little Arts by which They reign.
How fair our Great-first-Parent's lovely Frame,
When perfect from her Maker's Hand she came!
Sweetly Majestick!—each endearing Grace,
Each Charm celestial blooming in her Face,
Her Form Clarinda's—had her Soul been so,
She ne'er had sinn'd, nor Man been doom'd to Woe.

44

The Expostulation.

I

Why should I pine, lament, and die,
For one kind Glance of Flora's Eye;
Or sue to her who slights my Pains,
Contemns my Vows, my Love disdains?
While such a beauteous Throng appear,
More kind than she,—tho' none so fair.

II

More soft she seems than falling Snow;
Or silver Streams that gently flow,
When those bewitching Eyes I view,
They look as they could pity too;
But when to her I make my Moan,
She's harder than the hardest Stone,

45

III

No longer will I waste my Time,
And spend in vain my youthful Prime,
To court a Maid, whose chiefest Joy
Is how to torture and destroy:
I won't be any longer blind,
For none are charming but the kind.

IV

But, stay:—Behold the blooming Fair!
Her graceful Shape! her lovely Air!
All my Resolves are flown away,
Like Ghosts at the approaching Day;
And as the Sun the Flow'r revives,
My Passion in her Presence thrives.

V

'Tis vain elsewhere to seek Redress,
For She, and only She, can bless:
Ev'n while I to forget her try,
For her, and her alone, I die:

46

May Heav'n, that made her fair, dispose
Her Breast to cure the Lover's Woes!

LOVE's Progress.

Love wander'd out, one Summer's Day,
'Till He, benighted, lost his Way:
Then whither knowing not to go,
Or where to lie, or what to do,
With bloated Cheeks, and blubber'd Eyes,
With Sighs, and Sobs, and piteous Cries,
Upon the dewy Grass He lay,
Expecting the Return of Day.
Some Shepherds watching on the Plain
Their sleeping Flocks, heard him complain;
Nor were his loud Laments in vain;
For to his Aid they quickly came,
And ask'd his Business, and his Name.

47

He told them, that his whole Employ
Was to smile, and kiss, and toy,
To hope, and fear, and wish, and sigh,
And with Excess of Pleasure die.
Cupid's my Name (adjoin'd the Boy)
Venus my Mother, I her Joy;
The Court's my Place of Residence,
I Yester-morning came from thence,
But cannot find my Way from hence.
The joyful Shepherds crowding round,
Raise weary Cupid from the Ground:
His Cheeks they kiss, and wipe his Eyes,
With Acclamations fill the Skies.
Advanc'd upon their Shoulders high
They bear the now-contented Boy:
To rural Musick dance along,
Each tunes his Reed, or sings a Song.
Rejoicing, all with gladsome Shouts
Conduct him to their humble Huts,

48

And spread the wholesome cleanly Board
With what their fruitful Plains afford.
Cream, Butter, Cheese, and such like Fare,
The luscious Grape, and juicy Pear,
And purple Mulberry was there;
With Damsons glossy from the Tree,
And Honey from the Virgin Bee.
Love was with this so pleas'd, he swore,
That He would never leave them more:
But fix his Empire on the Plain,
And only over Shepherds reign.
At Court the Loss of Love was known,
Almost so soon as He was gone:
Those who had own'd his gentle Sway,
And vow'd his Godhead to obey,
Sent Messengers to seek him out,
Through all the Cities round about;
But never search'd the Groves and Plains,
Or thought to find Him 'mong the Swains:

49

And so their Care was all in vain,
Their Labour only for their Pain.
Love thus to flow'ry Meadows gone,
Tyrannick Plutus seiz'd the Crown,
And fill'd his abdicated Throne:
Usurp'd his Pow'r, repeal'd the Laws
Whereby he gain'd such just Applause;
And, quite devoid of Fear, or Shame,
Assum'd his Titles, and his Name:
Set his own Idol in the Place
Where Cupid's sacred Statue was,
And with an arbitrary Sway
Compell'd his Subjects to obey.
Love, since that time maintains his Court,
And reigns among the poorer sort,
With Nymphs and humble Shepherds dwells,
And visits those in lowly Cells:
While Plutus lords it o'er the Great,
And with the Mighty rules in State,

50

Where Love is now so quite forgot,
Except his Name they know him not.

The Regions of LOVE.

—procul hinc procul este Profani.

Beyond two Hills, whose beauteous Summits rise
With equal Grace, a pleasant Valley lies.
Here Nature liberally her Gifts bestows:
Delightful Land! where Milk and Honey flows!
Hence, far and wide extends an ample Plain,
Profusely grateful to the Tiller's Pain,
Where Corn, and Wine, and Oyl, rejoice the happy Swain.
Just in the Midst, an antient Land-mark stands,
Points out the Country, and divides the Lands:
And here the Traveller begins to prove
Refreshing Odours from the Groves of Love.

51

From this, streight on, the Mount of Venus lies,
Easy ascends, and ravishes the Eyes.
Here Venus' Gardens: here for ever green
With Blossoms crown'd eternal Spring is seen:
Here Flora's Bounty all the Ground bestows,
The Pink, the Lilly, Violet, and Rose,
At once their blended Fragrancy disclose.
Here, Woodbines intermix'd with Jessamine,
Around the Orange their Embraces twine,
Whose loaded bending Boughs support the cluster'd Vine.
Gently descending, lies a Myrtle-Grove,
Sacred to Venus, and the God of Love;
Hence all Arabia's balmy Sweets arise,
Unite their Odours, and perfume the Skies.
Quite thro' the Glade a Chrystal River flows,
Balsamick, healing all the Lover's Woes,
And spicy Shrubs along its Banks extend their graceful Rows.

52

Ten thousand smiling Cupids, ever gay,
Beauteous, and Young, among the Branches play,
And shew the doubting Passenger his Way.
For ever open, in the Center stands
Love's sacred Dome, and all around commands.
Delight and Pleasure at the Porch attend,
To introduce thee to thy Journey's End.
Then enter, Traveller, thy Homage pay
Before Love's Throne, and on his Altar lay
Thy grateful Sacrifice: (Distrust, and Fear,
And ill-tim'd Modesty are banish'd here)
Boldly perform his Rites; propitious, He
Will crown Thee with sublime Felicity.

53

The Unfortunate Shepherd. A BALLAD.

I

His Heart e'en broke with sighing,
Beneath a Willow-shade,
Despairing, almost dying,
Was love-sick Strephon laid:
His Sheep their Food forsaking,
Went straggling o'er the Plain,
All mournfully partaking
The Sorrows of the Swain.

II

A-down his Cheeks fast flowing,
His Tears the Grass bedew:
A woeful Object! showing
What luckless Love can do.

54

Tow'rd Cloe's Habitation
A wishful Glance he sent,
And full of Lamentation
Began his sad Complaint.

III

O Cloe! most inhuman!
O most unhappy Me!
But soon, (O cruel Woman!)
Kind Death will sot me free;
Tho' You with Frowns receive me,
And treat me with Disdain,
He kindly will relieve me,
And end my raging Pain.

IV

How happy is the Shepherd
Who pipes in yonder Grove:
His Shepherdess, good-natur'd,
With Love repays his Love!

55

But Cloe! Cruel Cloe!
My Passion does despise,
Will never hear my Story,
But scornful from Me flies.

V

Full gayly past each Season,
Ere she, relentless Fair!
Bereav'd Me of my Reason,
And doom'd Me to Despair:
But now, my Reed rejected,
Lies useless on the Ground,
My once lov'd Flocks neglected,
At random wander round.

VI

O Cloe! from thy Lover
Turn not thine Eyes away,
When Him Thou shalt discover
A Lifeless Lump of Clay:

56

But grant my last Petition,
The Boon I dying crave,
To pity my Condition,
And follow to my Grave.

VII

Where Cloe's Sheep are feeding,
He turns his streaming Eyes,
And sees Amyntas, speeding
To where the Fair One lies:
The much-lov'd Youth expecting,
Upon the Grass she lay,
All-pensive, and reflecting,
And wish'd the closing Day.

VIII

Poor Strephon saw their Greeting:
What Tongue can tell his Pain!
Embraces oft repeating,
They tript along the Plain;

57

Sunk down with Grief and Wonder,
Adieu, vain World! he cry'd,
His Heart-strings burst in-sunder,
And groaning thrice he dy'd.

To FLORA, with a Rose.

In this, my lovely Maid! You see
How blooming sweet and fair You be;
But quickly turn away your Eye,
Lest you behold it fade and die.
Beauty's a Shade that fleets away;
Life has Wings, and will not stay.

58

A SONG.

Had I the World at my Command,
And own'd the Wealth of Sea and Land,
To Flora I'd present it all,
And at her Feet lay down the Ball.
Or was my Life by Scraps sustain'd,
From Door to Door by begging gain'd,
Would she be mine, I'd bless my Fate,
Nor wish a more exalted State.
Possessing Her, or rich, or poor,
What is there to desire more?
There's Nothing precious but her Charms,
And Pleasure dwells but in her Arms.

59

O grant, You Pow'rs! the Fair I love
May to my Vows propitious prove,
And from your Altars shall arise
The Smoke of daily Sacrifice.
Among the Blessings You bestow
On craving Mortals here below,
But make the lovely Maiden mine,
I'll all the rest with Joy resign.

To FLORA. Asking how well I Love Her.

That I love You, pray believe,
But enquire not how well:
All the Answer I can give,
Is, My Life! I cannot tell.

60

Bid me in the smiling Spring
Count the Leaves and Blossoms gay;
And the Birds that sweetly sing
In the charming Month of May.
Bid Me, on the dusty Plain
Count the Atoms which arise,
Tell the Drops that fill the Main,
Or the Stars that gild the Skies;
Measure out the Depth of Hell,
Or the Height of Heav'n prove:
These I easier can tell
Than how much it is I love.

61

Love and Philosophy.

Why beats my Heart when Flora's nigh,
As it would from my Bosom fly?
Whence does this melting Softness rise,
When her my raptur'd Soul espies?
Why, gazing, do I speechless stand,
And tremble when I touch her Hand?
How does a Smile, a Glance, a Word,
Unutterable Joys afford?
Teach me, you learn'd in Nature's Laws,
You who have search'd, and found the Cause,
Why Planets roll, and Tempests blow,
And Seasons change, and Oceans flow:

62

Whence comes my Flora's boundless Sway?
Why must She rule, and I obey?
What's Love? declare its wond'rous Rise,
Shew how the Soul speaks thro' the Eyes:
Tell why, together, in Excess,
Love's Pains torment, its Pleasures bless.
Vain Dotards! should you Flora view,
To all your boasted Arts adieu,
One Look from her would more than prove,
No Science can account for Love.
A Power supream, o'er all it reigns,
And binds the Universe in Chains.

63

On FLORA.

What Joy! what Dread! when Flora I behold,
Fair as the Spring, but as the Winter cold.

ANOTHER.

My Flora frowns: What threatning Storms arise!
She smiles: What new-born Glories deck the Skies!

65

VALENTINO AND CLEANTHE.

A TALE.

Improbe Amor! quid non mortalia pectora cogis. Virg.

Post longes Gemitus, exhaustaque Lumina fletu Assiduo, post Lamenta, & convulsa frequenti Pectora singultu, moriens finivit Amores. Mantuan.


67

The Force of Love, the Anguish of Despair,
The Wretch forsaken, and the faithless Fair,
In mournful Strains I sing.—All you that hear
My Tragic Tale, in Pity drop a Tear,
And learn, from Mischiefs in this Story shown,
By others Evils to prevent your own.

68

Where Tame and Isis joyn, two Houses stood,
Of humble Height; built from a neighbouring Wood:
Two once they were: but Friendship's sacred sway
Had pluck'd the intervening Walls away,
And made of both but One; with Plenty blest,
Two widow'd Yeomen joyntly this possess'd.
Friends They had always been, but after Fate
Had each depriv'd of his beloved Mate
Their Families they joyn'd, and all their Store
Together mix'd, ne'er to be parted more.
No Chronicle, before that time, could shew
So strict a Friendship as between these Two:
For seldom did they ever part by Day,
And in one Bed at Night together lay.
Their Age, their Humour, their Desires the same,
And all Things common, but each Other's Name;
Nay, e'en their Names (as shall anon be shown)
They had at Heart to joyn, and make but one.

69

Their lowing Herds no single Master know,
For in one Pail their Streams together flow;
Their Harvest, with united Labour sown,
United Care gets in, and neither thinks his own.
Or This, or That, as Chance or Fancy guides,
To vend their rural Stores, at Market, rides:
The Money in one common Chest was laid,
Nor any Difference its Division made.
Wide as the Eye could reach, the Land around
Was all their own; and Plenty bless'd the Ground:
An ample Fortune!—yet their frugal Board
Did Food, for Health, not Luxury, afford.
No French Ragoût, or Fricassy was there,
But plenteous Store of wholsome country Fare,
The Ox, the Sheep, the Partridge, and the Hare:
No racking Wines from distant Regions brought,
But Ale from their own Malt supply'd the Draught;
Mirth crown'd their Cups: contented with their own
Full happily They liv'd, to pining Care unknown.

70

Fortune on all their Undertakings smil'd,
And Nature had bestow'd on each an only Child,
Of Years the same; for Summer's cheerful Green,
And Winter Snows, each Sixteen times had seen:
The Comfort of their aged Parent's Days:
Different in Sex, alike deserving praise.
He Valentino, She Cleanthe nam'd;
Their Worth by Fame was far and near proclaim'd;
For Beauty She, for Valour He renown'd,
Without Compeer the Country all around.
None more expert than He to chace the Deer,
Or dart the Otter with the bearded Spear;
None could than She more numerous Conquests boast,
For none beheld Her but his Heart was lost.
Both dear alike to either Parent were,
Alike their Comfort, and alike their Care,
And each esteem'd the Other's Child his Heir:
For from their Birth the ancient Folks design'd
Their Friendship, Wealth, and Name, should in these two be joyn'd.

71

A mutual Flame the youthful Pair inspir'd,
And Fate seem'd pleas'd with what They all desir'd:
He had no Sense but of Cleanthe's Charms,
And all the Bliss she hop'd was center'd in his Arms.
Whilst o'er the Plains He drove the flying Prey,
She'd sigh,—Why stays my Love so long away!
Come, come, my Life! to thy Cleanthe come;
Thy own Cleanthe calls,—ah! whither dost thou roam?
Then forth she'd range, impatient, all around
List'ning, if from the Musick of the Hound
She his Approach might learn, with open Arms
To welcome his Return, and bless him with her Charms:
In gentle Murmurs chide his tedious Stay,
And with a Kiss compleat the Pleasures of the Day.
Sometimes, reclin'd on his beloved Breast,
The mossy Bank they both together press'd,
Their Arms, each Other circling; Pleasures crown'd
Their blissful Brows, and Cupids hover'd round.

72

Diffusing blooming Joys, each Hour prov'd
A smiling Sign how happily they lov'd.
Sometimes, of Roses she would Chaplets twine,
In beauteous Order mixt with Jessamine,
And each delightsome Flow'r, whose Fragrancy
Could gratifie the Smell, or Colour please the Eye,
To grace her Lover's Brows:—Cleanthe's Name
Carv'd on each Tree express'd his equal Flame;
His Words, his Looks, and all his Actions prove
Ten thousand ways the Greatness of his Love.
Sometimes in Ecstasies He clasp'd the Maid,
Transported with her Smiles:—You Gods! he said,
My happy Fate I praise! Is there than this,
Is there, You Pow'rs Supreme! a greater Bliss?
Thus, thus to hold Cleanthe in my Arms,
To taste her Lips, to banquet on her Charms,
Is Heav'n, or something more: while thus I hold
My Charmer, while my Treasure I enfold

73

Within these eager Arms, while She my Vows
With Pleasure hears, my Ecstasies allows,
Angels to me are wretched, Kings are poor:
Be still Cleanthe mine, You Gods! I ask no more!
Thus would He bless his Fate:—with smiling Grace
The Fair mean-while, enraptur'd, on his Face
Sighing would gaze, and meet his close Embrace.
With Joy and Pleasure fill'd, each happy Day
Slides on, and wing'd with Love the Moments haste away.
Each grassy Hill, and every gloomy Shade,
Was Witness of those mutual Vows They made;
Such tender Vows of everlasting Love,
That when the Angels in the Rolls above
Saw them recorded down, with Wonder they confess'd,
More than themselves this Mortal Pair was blest.
But Happiness is never at a Stay,
It makes it Wings, and quickly flies away;

74

Unconstant as the Winds, now here, now there,
Its Course it takes, nor tarries any where.
While with delusive Hopes of smiling Joy
Vain Mortals hug themselves, their Thoughts employ
On Bliss alone, from their deceiv'd Embrace
Away the Phantom flies, and in its Place
Leaves sad Remorse, restless consuming Care,
Heart-breaking Anguish, and Hell-born Despair.
Oh! Valentino! had o'er-ruling Fate
Ordain'd thy Joys as durable as great
NoBliss could equal thine:—But thou must know,
(As thou hast done of Joy) the last extreams of Woe.
While thus each Hour the youthful Couple prove
Whatever Pleasures wait successful Love,
Or spring from Innocence; one cursed Day,
When all their Guardian-Angels were away,
The fatal Cause of all their future Pain
By chance came riding o'er the peaceful Plain,

75

As fair Cleanthe tripping o'er the Grass,
Was hasting to a Grove where Valentino was.
The charming Maid He saw, and seeing lov'd;
For who such Beauty could behold unmov'd!
She too admir'd the Stranger's manly Grace,
And thought she ne'er had seen a more engaging Face.
How great the Consequence of trivial Things!
From what small Causes mighty Mischief springs!
Accursed Interview! from hence arose
Cleanthe's faithless Change, and Valentino's Woes.
Forbear, O Muse! what Means this Stranger found
To make Cleanthe conscious of that Wound
Her Eyes had giv'n his Heart, nor need'st Thou tell
Each various Circumstance from hence befel;
But haste to shew from whence this Stranger came,
Declare his Birth, his Country, and his Name.

76

Of humble Parents, on the Banks of Tweed,
Simplicius led his Master's Flocks to feed,
A wretched Cottage Swain: his Sunday Cheer
Was Kale and oaten Bread, and Water was his Beer.
Despis'd, and poor, he liv'd, till call'd by Fate
The Plains he left upon my Lord to wait.
Now first, the homely Sheepskin cast aside,
A Livery trim'd with Lace indulg'd his native Pride:
Nor Fortune ceas'd where she so well began,
But made him soon his Lordship's Gentleman;
And with her unexpected Favours grac'd,
On mighty Things his sanguine Hopes are plac'd.
Tall was his Stature, blooming was his Face,
Large were his Limbs, and stately was his Pace;
His ample Shoulders wide well seem'd to prove
Him fitted for the active part of Love:
In comely Order his black shining Hair
Hung curling to his Waste, and wanton'd in the Air.

77

Brisk were his Eyes, and sparkling was their Fire,
Of Love expressive, glowing with Desire.
Nature on Him did lavishly dispense
All outward Charms; but covetous of Sense,
She gave him scarce a Grain:—
Though what she had in that respect deny'd,
Was with Assurance most abundantly supply'd.
Auspicious Stars his natal Hour had bless'd
With smiling Omens; Fortune him confess'd
Her Favourite; and Love where-e'er he came
With sure Success indulg'd his changing Flame:
Nor here forsakes him:—but with new-born Fires,
Her former Vows forgot, Cleanthe's Breast inspires.
Ungrateful Fair! is Valentino's Love
Rewarded thus? canst Thou unfaithful prove
To so sincere a Flame? how canst Thou bear
To see him rack'd and tortur'd with Despair,
Whom Thou so well hast lov'd? within whose Arms
So often Thou hast lain? whose blooming Charms

78

Thou hast beheld enraptur'd?—is He now
Less lovely than He was? Not He, but Thou,
False Maid! art alter'd: He continues still
To place his Heav'n in Thee, to make thy Will
The Rule of his Desires.—From thy Brows
His Days are fair or low'ring, all his Vows
Ascend for Thee alone, his faithful Heart
Thinks thine so too, nor knows how false Thou art.
Assist, Melpomene! with ev'ry Strain
Of moving Woe, whilst I the Lover's Pain,
The racking Pain of slighted Love declare,
His Grief, his Rage, his Madness, and Despair.
Not long, tho' with deceitful Smiles she try'd,
Could she her Change from Valentino hide;
Too plain, alas! her Falshood He descries:
For what can 'scape a Lover's piercing Eyes?
And now, all Bounds rejecting, thro' his Soul,
Strongest by Turns, contending Passions roll.

79

Grief, Anger, Love, Compassion for the Fair,
Scorn for his Rival, for himself Despair.
When furious Winds from different Quarters roar,
And drive the Surges headlong on the Shore,
When Mountain-high the foaming Billows rise,
And dash their frothy Tops against the Skies,
Ocean is calm, and Nature is at rest,
If with that Storm compar'd which rages thro' his Breast.
Mad with Despair, he visits every Grove,
The conscious Scenes of his once happy Love:
You Trees! he cries, which form this gloomy Shade,
And heard those Vows my perjur'd Fair One made,
Long may you flourish: may the false One's Name
Long on your Bark upbraid her guilty Flame:
Wide may it spread, observ'd by ev'ry Eye,
Recording luckless Love, and hellish Perjury.
By Isis' winding Stream an Island made,
With Trees o'ergrown, supply'd a pleasing Shade:

80

Here oft (whilst Cupid smil'd) the Lovers lay
On some green Turf, and happy, pass'd the Day,
While both with eager Emulation strove
How best to shew the Greatness of their Love.
This was the Place Cleanthe most admir'd
Of all the Groves, where oftnest she retir'd
With Valentino, smiling in his Arms;
Where first she own'd her Flame, and bless'd him with her Charms.
This, while the Gods so pleas'd, the blissful Scene
Of perfect Joy and Happiness had been:
'Twas here, by all the Pow'rs Mankind adore,
Eternal Truth ten thousand times she swore,
Swore to be always his:—that Time, nor Fate,
Which all things else destroy, her Flame should e'er abate.
And now, no longer able to sustain
Such racking Grief, such Agonies of Pain,
This very Place the frantick Lover chose,
To end his Sorrows, and compleat his Woes.

81

Here come, to Heav'n he lifts his streaming Eyes
Worn raw with briny Tears;—You Gods! he cries,
Is there on Earth so lost a Wretch as I,
So void of Hope, so doom'd to Misery?
Why? why? You Pow'rs! am I condemn'd to bear
Hell's Punishment, the Torment of Despair,
While You with Pleasures crown the perjur'd Fair?
What is my Crime, to be thus strangely curst?—
Are there no Gods?—or are the Gods unjust?
With Woes o'erwhelm'd, now to that Bow'r he came,
Where first the false One vow'd a lasting Flame:
Thrice happy Bow'r! he cries, when to these Arms
The yielding Maid gave up her blooming Charms,

82

How blest didst thou behold me!—In his Breast
Contending Passions struggling stop'd the rest;
Each former Joy does through his Bosom roll,
With present Grief compar'd, and racks his tortur'd Soul.
Raving, outragious grown—
On Death resolv'd, his Pistol in his Hand,
Cursing his Birth, does Valentino stand:
Sternly, around, his furious Eye-balls roll,
And speak the dire Disorder of his Soul.
Here, take, you Gods! he cries, that Life you gave:
I will no longer be this servile Slave;
On your hard Terms my Being I disdain,
And fling your worthless Present back again.
What! shall I live a faithless Woman's Scorn!
Damnation!—'tis a Thought not to be born!
No: spight of all your rigid Fates decree,
This friendly Ball shall end my Pains and Me.

83

O Woman! Woman! hellish Sex! design'd
To tempt, betray, torment, and damn Mankind!
Confusion on You all! Plagues blast your Charms!
And Death eternal harbour in your Arms!
No more He said:—through his distracted Brain
The hissing Bullet drove, and ended all his Pain.

85

AN INVOCATION OF HEALTH.

Virgin celestial! to the Poet's Vows
Thine Ear incline, consenting ------


87

Health! Good Supreme! Offspring of Heaven! divine,
Inestimable Prize! whose Loss, nor Power,
Distinguisht Rank, nor Riches, can supply:
Thee vainly wishing for, on downy Couch,
(Now Couch of Thorns) in agonizing Pain,
The tortur'd Great Man lies: — one Smile from Thee,
Not Mines of Gold, not India's Wealth can buy.
But, kindly humble! to the lab'ring Hind
(Whose daily Task perform'd, on some clean Straw,

88

Rushes, or Flocks, in balmy Slumbers lyes)
Thou givest all thy Blessings: Him, secure
From Pains and Aches, guardest: When the Morn
With rosy Blushes calls him, fresh and strong
He hastens to the Field, Thou to the Field
Attend'st Him through the Labours of the Day.
Thou, not in Palaces, where dainty Cates
Are variously compounded, to stir up
Cloy'd Appetite; not where the jovial Bowl
Moves briskly round, in smiling Circles round
Swift Time unheeded moves; where am'rous Play,
And wanton Dalliance fill the lustful Hours;
But, Thou residest in some lowly Cot,
Where humble Food, the Rasher from the Coals,
Sav'ry Repast! on homely Lunchion cut,
Affords delicious Banquet; not Ragoût,
Or Fricassy, or Second-Course to cloy
The Stomach fill'd before; but from the Churn,

89

Butter, or Cheese, compleats the wholsom Meal.
Salubrious Draughts from the chrystaline Spring
Are quaff'd delightsome: or when some great Day,
High Festival! uncommon Mirth demands,
Champaign, nor Burgundy, but much more worth
Than Burgund or Champaign, nectareous Juice!
Cyder yclep'd, sung by celestial Bard
In Lines immortal. — O celestial Bard!
Might but these Lines immortal be like Thine!
Lovely Hygeia! on whose ruddy Cheek
A Bloom eternal glows, surpassing That
With which Aurora paints the Crimson Morn:
Vouchsafe thy Presence! nor yet leave behind
Thy fair Companions, sprightly Exercise,
Smiling Good-Nature, hearty Chearfulness,
Chast Temperance, and ever blest Content.
Disease (thine Opposite) her sable Wings
Expands, wide over-shadowing; all beneath,

90

Distressful Sorrow, Heart-tormenting Care,
Horror, and Pain, shrill Shrieks, and moanful Groans,
Blend dreadfully promiscuous: a dire Train
Attends her Steps, unwearied. — Monster huge!
Whole Nations over-striding, stalks along
Contagion, first: her baleful Eyes around
Rolling tremendous, wheresoe'er she comes
Sad Desolation reigns, her every Breath
Lays Regions waste, ten thousand dying Groans
From her each Step resound: grim Death and She
March Hand in Hand, with Slaughter unsuffic'd.
Next, in the Train, swift Febris urges on,
Impetuous; her Eye-balls glowing red.
As from some Furnace, her scorcht Throat emits
Unsufferable Heat, along her Veins
The hissing Torrent boils: Not Oceans drunk
Her Thirst can slake, or qnench her inward Fire.

91

Close by her Side, stalks on in sullen State,
Her Face with Scars unseemly furrow'd o'er,
Bright Beauty's Foe, malignant: wildly deaf
To Lover's Sighs, and blooming Virgins Tears.
Stretcht far behind, innumerable Bands
Dreadful move on, sworn Foes to Human Race,
Marshal'd by Chiefs of terrible Renown.
Hydrops unweildy, dragging on with Toil
A Bulk enormous: Jaundice yellow-ey'd
Slothful, reluctant moving: racking Stone,
With Pain excessive, unsupportable,
Loud shrieking: solemn, with a lordly Port,
Gout pitiless Tormenter of the Great:
And Rheumatism full of aking Woe.
Unbrac'd her Nerves, or to support or guide
Her shaking Limbs unable, totters on
Palsy half-dead. — Dissolving all away,
Moist Diabetes, each an Urinal
Incessant using leads her dripping Train.

92

Lepra obscene, o'erspread with running Sores,
Emitting baleful Stench: nor less obscene,
That Monster horrible, begot long since
By Lust on wanton Dalliance, shameful Birth!
Ten thousand Forms assuming, Proteus Spleen
Her motly Troop conducts, with hideous Yell
Their Shape each Moment changing, Monsters dire!
Centaurs, Chimeras, Gorgons, Fairies, Sprights,
Inflicting curst Variety of Woe.
Close at her Heels comes raving Lunacy,
Foaming at Mouth; her Eye-balls wildly stare.
Her Teeth she grinds, and stamping shakes the Ground;
Her Arms around she flings, and to the Skies
Bellows loud Threats and Execrations dire.
Consumption, last, a meager Skeleton,
Tall, haggard, pale; deep in their Sockets sunk
Her Eye-balls dimly roll, extinct their Fire.
Slowly she moves her feeble Coarse along,

93

Whilst ratling Coughs eternal heave her Breast,
Her Entrails piece-meal rending: moanful Sighs
Fly round her numberless, her Arms she folds
Inly complaining, melancholy Grief,
Afflicting Anguish, Hell-begot Despair,
Brood in her Heart, and grind her very Soul.
These, and ten thousand more, Mankind's curst Foes!
Hourly intent their vital Thread to cut
By Guile, or open Violence, circle round
Unthinking Mortals; watch their every Step,
Insidious, and rush upon the Prey.
But, Thou! O Health divine! whose sacred Look
Makes Death reluctant fly, before whose Face
Her grim Attendants recreant scud away!
Be Thou the Poet's Guard! Fortune adverse
Hath prov'd unkind, but be Thou not unkind,

94

Nor adverse prove! conduct Him through Life's Course
With thy safe-guiding Arm! grant Him serene
And quiet Days, no Sickness discompose
His thoughtful Soul; nor fancied Ills nor real
Suspend his humble Strains, design'd to chace
Heart-gnawing Care, and lighten human Woe!

95

Advice to Coy FLORA.

I.

Consider, Flora! Age will come,
And on You lay his icy Hand,
Which, even Beauty can't withstand:
Eternal Fate has so decreed;
The Roses which are now in Bloom,
Must leave your Cheeks;—nor in their Room
Will other Roses e'er succeed.

II.

Those Eyes which dull the Diamond's Ray,
Where all the Loves and Graces play,
Their Glories lost, shall dimly move,
Without one Grace, or single Love;
And strive in vain to raise Desire,
Tho' now they set the World on Fire.

96

III.

Then, meet the Lover, while You may,
With equal Ardor fill his Arms,
And bless him with complying Charms.
Swift roll the Years:—no more Delay;
For Youth prepares to wing away.

IV.

Beauty which has attain'd its Prime,
Begins to fade and wither soon:
O! wisely use the precious Time!
For Night comes quickly after once 'tis Noon.

97

Thyrsis and Damon. A SONG.

Thyrsis.

I.

Simple Damon! tell me why
Dost thou not reveal thy anguish,
But in Silence pine and languish?
To thy self an Enemy.
If she knows not of thy Grief,
How canst thou expect Relief?

Damon.

II.

While with Wonder I behold Her,
Words their friendly Aid deny:
But my Eyes have often told her,
That for Her alone I die.
Did her Breast to Love incline,
Sure her Eyes would answer mine.


98

Thyrsis.

III.

Pr'ythee, learn to be more wise,
Court her Ears as well as Eyes:
Every Way your Passion shew,
If you would to Pity move her;
Looks alone will never do,
Women hate a silent Lover.

The Remonstrance.

I

Veil, Flora! veil, in Pity to Mankind,
Those Charms which make all wretched, but the Blind:
What Eye can such excessive Lustre bear!
Seeing is Love, and loving is Despair;
For soothing Hope but small Relief can give,
Where Multitudes must die, and only one can live.

99

II

Forbear, bright Maid! to find a savage Joy,
In having Pow'r unbounded to destroy:
With generous Pity human Quiet spare,
For gentle Mercy best becomes the Fair:
Withdraw those Charms whence fatal Mischiefs flow,
And since you cannot cure, prevent the Woe.

EJACULATION.

What is, my Soul! this empty World to thee?
Its Riches? Dross! its Pleasures? Vanity!
Stretch forth thy Wings, and soar away,
Far hence, to Realms of blissful Day,
Where Pleasures wait Thee worthy of thy Stay.

100

The Stages of Love.

What strange Sensations in his Bosom move,
When first the Lover feels the Flames of Love!
With pleasing Joy he meditates the Fair,
Her Voice, her Smiles, her Shape, her ev'ry Air:
Each blooming Charm the kindling Fire blows,
'Till like a Furnace his whole Bosom glows:
Graceful her Image rises o'er his Soul,
Takes full Possession, and commands the whole.
He trembling, now, at awful Distance moves,
And, fearful, tells the lov'd One how he loves;
From her fair Lips, submissive, waits his Doom,
While his pale Cheeks lose all their rosy Bloom;
Watchful, observes each Motion of her Eyes,
And as she frowns, or smiles, revives, or dies.
But if the Fair with Pity hears his Vows,
Receives his Passion, and his Flame allows,

101

Grateful, infolds him in her snowy Arms,
And for his Pain rewards him with her Charms;
Ungenerous He no longer owns her Sway,
But in return refuses to obey:
His Flame extinguisht, now, he sighs no more,
But basely slights whom He ador'd before;
The Scene reverst, contrary Passions rise,
She 'tis who follows now,—and He who flies.

To Cynthia 's Ghost. An ELEGY.

Stay! Fleeting Air!
Thou dear resemblance of my lovely Fair!
Why from me dost thou fly, beloved Shade?
Not thus would she thou picturest have fled.
Her Angel-Form, the Glories of her Face,
Her pleasing Mein, her all-commanding Grace,

102

Thou wear'st indeed:—in Thee too let me find
Her only Pride,—the Pride of being kind.
Ah! let me clasp Thee in my eager Arms!
And once again inrich Me with thy Charms!
O let me taste those Lips where Nectar flows,
Those Cheeks out-blushing the unfolding Rose,
Thy Breath where all Arabia's Spices joyn,
Sweeter than Myrtle Groves, or Wreaths of Jessamine!
It may not be!—from my deceiv'd Embrace
The Shadow shrinks, and turns away its Face;
Stay, cruel Shade! O wherefore dost thou fly?
Why to these Arms dost Thou thy self deny?
Stay: stay: Thou lovely Semblance of my Fair!
Will Cynthia leave her Thyrsis in Despair?
Let me, at least, thy beauteous Form survey,
And gaze—until I gaze my self away!
Let me, once more, inraptur'd with Surprize,
Behold the usual Sweetness of thine Eyes!

103

Let me, once more, a wonted Smile receive,
And give a Joy which only Thou canst give!
Stay, lovely Shade! dear Semblance of my Fair!
Will Cynthia leave her Thyrsis in Despair?
She's gone! she's gone! outstripping Thought she fled,
To range the gloomy Regions of the Dead:
But tho' she's gone, her Image in my Mind
In its full Bloom of Beauty's left behind.
Thyrsis! for ever there Thou may'st thy Cynthia find.
FINIS.